Saving Harry
by Audacia's Quill
Summary: MAJOR AU-Harry didn't go to Hogwarts, he stayed in Privet Drive, he promised he'd come later, but deep down he didn't want to be a sinner. He didn't want to be like his no-good parents. He wanted to be loved. So he went to muggle school.  Yaoi & Religion
1. Shrinking Violet

**Saving Harry**

**[A/N: NEVER FEAR, "POTTER FROST" is nextish on the stories-to-update list!]**

_Alternate Universe – Harry didn't go to Hogwarts, he stayed in Privet Drive, he promised he'd come later, but deep down he didn't want to be a sinner. He didn't want to be like his no-good parents. He wanted to be loved. So he went to muggle school._

_And it was hell._

_Then, those strange foreign exchange students came, watch as Harry struggles against his home, his magic, his sexuality, his school, and the idea that he could be worth the hand of friendship." SUMMARY._

**WARNINGS: Religious Fundamentalism, Sensitive Subjects Mentioned, Future Lemon - things of varying sexual nature until that point, homosexual/slash relationships, intense bullying, varying degrees of abuse. If this puts a stick in your ass and offends you, turn back now.**

**Concept and Story heavily influenced by premise of Steven King's "Carrie". I heat chicken nuggets on review flames.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter [/Warner Bros. do] nor do I own Yu-Gi-Oh! Or the great concept of Carrie by S. King**

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter One<strong>

He didn't like to talk. He just sat there, minding his own business. Sometimes Mr Broderick wondered if it was because the boy was too scared to talk. Mr Broderick encouraged him to talk, and made a vastly unpopular seating plan in his English class in order to do so, but it did not make things easier for Harry Potter. He wanted to make the boy talk more, he had such a lovely reading voice, and he was blessed to hear it.

Soft yet deep, soothing yet engaging but no louder then a dormouse, so he instituted a seating plan to have Harry close to his desk. Also this made it easier for Mr Broderick to not forget about Harry, he had been personally mortified when he had forgotten Harry once. He missed his name in roll-call and forgot to hand him the class work on "Of Mice and Men,", and it only came to a head when he'd been called up, that the boy had gone to the attendance office to get his present-mark, for being in the lesson. Mr Broderick had never done anything like that before, and he made sure it would not happen again. It was just that, for a Year 11 student in a comprehensive secondary school, he made himself awfully forgettable in lesson.

Most were loud, boisterous, active and social whereas Harry simply wasn't. It didn't take a psychologist to figure out why. In Harry's desk, someone had scratched into it with a pen, carving into the wood.

_Freak._

It was no coincidence.

It would have taken someone blind, deaf and dumb not to detect how Harry was treated at school. The administration and staff did what it could, but with no complaints and no witnesses and nary a word from anyone caring on the boy's behalf, little could be done. It was horrid really, seeing the pale, skinny child coming in with a crushed spirit.

Harry did his best to hide it of course – with secrets and bruises cloaked in his too-big worn out uniform. He tried not to look a mess, it was hard, and made him stick out more. Perhaps the shabbiness of his uniform could have been overlooked if he wore his tie loose and low, like all the other kids, or if he didn't tuck in his too-big polo-shirt. Maybe if he stopped wearing those sellotaped square glasses, but at least they weren't those circular-bottle ones. They were destroyed in first year.

Maybe if he got a schoolbag that wasn't worn by the handles and wasn't about to drop off his back, maybe if he had more energy in P.E. He liked sport, but he couldn't keep up, he was such a snail. He never had the energy. Who could blame him? Would they, if they knew? He couldn't eat, wouldn't eat, not during his enforced fast. Aunt Petunia said he wasn't supposed to accept food from strangers, and over the years it turned into a rule of not accepting food from anyone. It followed the rule of not accepting charity, he was already a burden on them, and there was no need to burden anyone else. There were kids in countries Petunia couldn't pronounce, that couldn't eat even though they were allowed. Harry knew he'd be so ungrateful, taking food from others when he had a roof over his head, and if he was good, he would get the meals he earned.

He was rake thin and pathetic, no energy for lesson, and too dumb to raise his hand in class. There was no reason for anyone to like him, he wasn't good at anything. He had big ugly clothes and a big ugly scar, ugly glasses and the social skills of a loser.

Harry bit his lip as the bell went; waiting for the class to leave as he slowly put his work away, making sure to be last. Mr Broderick noticed it, but didn't mind it and would use the minute alone to ask if he was okay. Usually he'd get a nod or noncommittal answer, but it was enough considering the boy spoke to no one.

"You alright?" asked Mr Broderick as Harry put his planner away.

"Yes Sir," answered Harry, as he always did, with an earnest nod, and left the room.

Mr Broderick turned to the essays handed in on his desk and thumbed through them until he reached a name – Harry Potter, and pulled it to the front.

Contrary to popular belief, the boy was not stupid.

Finishing off the essays, Mr Broderick sighed as he checked the time. It had only taken him three hours to finish the teenager's essays (he wasn't expecting anything grand). Packing all of his things, he checked each desk and was happy that nothing had been vandalized like young Harry's desk. He calmly walked through the empty hallways and headed for the dinner hall to eat his sandwiches.

Though all the teachers pay was lessened. Mr Broderick was glad that the children were getting free school dinners now, before he had to watch children other than Harry come to school and have nothing but an apple for their dinner.

Now at least they all were getting a basic dinner to get them through the day.

His eyes suddenly narrowed angrily when he spotted young Piers Polkiss picking off Potter's plate like it was a plate of free samples.

"Piers. Each child has their own lunch for them to eat, if you want me to contact your mother and father I suggest that you return to your own table and eat your own food,"

Piers quickly jumped up and turned to stare at him in something akin to horror "B-but sir,"

"No buts boy. Go to your own table now,"

Sulking, Piers turned around and heaved his way back to his own table. Despite being glad for the moment that Mr Broderick saved what would be his only –and secret meal (for he was not allowed), he knew Piers would make him pay for that.

Mr Broderick nodded to Harry and then made his way to his own table.

The day seemed to go by in a fast blur, stopping only once when the art teacher smiled at Harry's charcoal skills.

That made him happy for the whole of the day, even though Piers tripped him down the stairs and people laughed, even though girls said nasty things about him in the corridor, even though he knew he'd have to work when he got home.

The happiness did not last.

* * *

><p>"-boy," came the tense voice of Aunt Petunia when he got home, with a note of displeasure. Harry threw his bag in the second bedroom and came downstairs.<p>

"Yes Aunt Petunia?" asked Harry politely.

"Piers got shouted at because of you," she said, calmly setting her mug of tea on the table beside her.

Harry's eyes widened, the day he had feared had come. His hands began to sweat and his whole body felt like it was heating up as it always did when he was about to be shouted at. How had she known? She'd been talking to his mother, it must have come up or something. No...

"It was because Piers had taken food off of your plate," what scared Harry the most was that she had not raised her voice but there was a tone of danger in it. Harry swallowed nervously, neck and face too stiff to nod along.

"The problem with this story is the food part," said Aunt Petunia calmly, her spindly fingers picked up the cup of tea and put it to her lips for a little sip.

"You know you're not supposed to accept charity boy," her tone had turned icy and the calm demeanour had dropped.

"That includes charity from the kids, from the school, from strangers – from _normal _people," she sneered "-what right did you think you had boy?"

Harry felt tears welling in his eyes, he was disappointed with himself. He was such an awful child. He could not speak, for he was so wracked with shame that his throat was clogged with phlegm.

"Free meals from the school!" she hissed in rage "-there's a form for that, I bet you took that and filled it in yourself to get them. So you've stolen food from mouths that deserve it and you've lied," there was disgust in her voice again.

"What must the school think? That we send you without money or your own food because we aren't proper?" the hand holding the cup of tea shook as she spoke, her voice getting higher and louder.

"They think we're poor? That this house is poor? We may not waste money on a uniform you don't deserve but to imply we're so poor we'd starve you? So poor you deserve charity?" she was screaming now, so loud his ears hurt.

Harry wanted to say 'I'm sorry Aunt Petunia' but was so upset that the words would not come, he just stood their dumbly with tears flowing from his eyes.

Harry felt a bit of anger that he knew was sinful, that he should not feel, he wanted to shout back at Aunt Petunia as well as apologize.

'They call me Poor Pauper Potter! That's YOUR fault, not mine!' his soul wanted to say and he felt confused and disgusted that he wanted to say such things.

"I'm sorry!" he said, his voice breaking unevenly. Aunt Petunia continued angrily, and Harry envied how words flowed so easily from other kid's mouths and wished that would happen now. Then Harry realized it was sinful to be envious so he stopped.

"Go to your cupboard," she said, Harry hadn't even gotten changed from his tatty uniform yet, but he did so without stir.

Walking to his cupboard with purpose, he ducked his head and got in his knees to squeeze into his former bedroom which now had a small crucifix mounted in the centre. Tugging the lead to light the dim bulb, Harry put his hands together and stared blankly at it. He had to do this long enough until Petunia was sure that Jesus knew his sins, and then he would be forgiven when David got home.

David Dursley was the move-in after Vernon; the former reverend had come and swept Petunia off her feet after a PTA meeting. Petunia kept the name, even after Dudley and Vernon left, and forced David to take it to. Sometimes Harry shut his eyes and wished it was Vernon; he was only at his worst when drunk, David was at his worst all the time.

Fear rose in his heart as the door to his cupboard opened after the sound of locks opening, David was home.

"Go to the bathroom," the room where neighbours couldn't hear screams.

"Yes sir," said Harry, finishing a non-existent prayer, turning his back to the cross.

* * *

><p>Isis Ishtar sent the boys to bed, she'd given them a week to get over the jetlag of going to England, it was generous but she'd been rather harsh in getting them there in the first place. It was intervention, to be precise.<p>

Marik Ishtar had been behind on his schooling especially, Ryou was faring the best with Yugi coming second but the lifestyle of being a local-celebrity duellist had been chewing into their lives. Their education was suffering, even if they wanted a job with companies related to duelling – if they were still interested in it for years to come, they needed their education. The minute Isis received word that Domino High had a transfer program; she pulled her little brother and her friends into it with a vengeance. After the Battle City tournament, they had all gotten close, and soon, after saying goodbye to their links in Japan for a while, they were to complete their education, in Surrey, England.

Meanwhile, a smug comprehensive school felt awfully proud for being so multicultural, having just accepted the applications of several students from Japan, it would surely be an iconic moment in Stonewall High history.

The following day had begun awfully early for the boys who felt nervous, even if one or two of them denied it. They put on their black blazers and slid into their shoes, chomping on the toast and breakfast Isis had made for them and left, inwardly telling themselves: it was only for a year until they passed their exams.

Only a year…

With a sigh, Yugi, Marik and Ryou headed out the door and into a taxi, not knowing their way there. Marik could hazard a guess that he was missing Joey, Tristan and Téa, Ryou was probably the most at home since he'd been born in England anyway, and Marik was used to changing countries to a point where he felt only somewhat out of place.

The nerves hit them all though as they pulled up infront of a school so worn and bleak that it almost seemed to have a grey cloud hang over it.

Welcome to Stonewall High.

* * *

><p>"Did the belt break your skin? Does it hurt?" asked David softly, the next day. Harry knew he was not supposed to lie, so he nodded shamefully.<p>

"Be careful in PE," was all David had said "-come straight home after school, no loitering, the fence needs painting,"

"Yes Sir,"

"Did you do all of your homework?"

"Yes Sir,"

"Did you say your prayers?"

"Yes Sir," Yes I did, because I'm stupid, prayin' Harry.

"Have fun at school," he said it dispassionately, eyes cold, but Harry nodded anyway.

Aunt Petunia gave him his house key from the drawer and pushed him out of the door quickly; telling him not to be late, she did not want automated text messages from that school telling her he'd arrived late. Stupid school and its invasive measures, she should never have listed her number to them.

So with that in mind, Harry bolted out of the door, his worn shoulder bag bumping off his side as he ran stomach empty. He'd been allowed two glasses of water for breakfast, _two! _David was in a good mood, he even told him to have fun!

Even as the kids purposely bumped him as they walked into the entryway of the school, he couldn't be rid of his small, secretive smile as he hoped the good mood at home would reign all day.

Though his smile turned into a slightly pained one as he looked at his locker at the recent vandalism done in permanent sharpie pen…

_Harry Potter Eats Shit._

A dark part of Harry took that on the chin, sarcastically.

_It implies I eat._

But Harry sighed knowing he would earn his dinner tonight and avoid the dining hall today, on the bright side that meant avoiding Piers Polkiss, and David did not mind if he drank water. He allowed it for today because he had PE, and he had PE outside where it was hot and didn't want Harry fainting and drawing attention to himself.

Today may be a good day, well, as good as a day ever got for a child like him.

He walked through the corridors, unaware of the mental assessment from the new addition to his peers. They watched him as they made their way to the Headmaster's Office because kids were laughing at the words on his locker. They stared at the bags under the boy's eyes, his skinny wrist flashing as he opened the locker unphased, his tattered appearance, and content smile in the face of ridicule.

He was rather pathetic, and their stomachs turned as they heard whispers of curiosity (and some nastiness) on their appearance as a teacher led them to the office. Marik silenced many with a glare, Yugi remained oblivious and Ryou looked nobody in the eye.

The teacher left them in the office, thinking to herself 'I had no idea they'd be this…_different'._

Stonewall High didn't like _different._

But they preferred it to downright freakish, as long as they weren't freakish, they might just survive as the faculty could not have another Harry Potter on their conscience.

Poor boy had his locker vandalized. Again.

Poor boy, he's so friendless, so shabby and so thin. The girls didn't like him because of his looks; he wasn't ugly, just pathetic.

Sometimes Miss Strauss, head of German, hated Harry. He didn't deserve it, but he was so pathetic she wanted to shake him, but he was so thin he might just break.

But when inquiries are made, they come up clean.

How can a boy be so ratty when he stays with a good hearted reverend, and a devoted housewife? It was beyond her, and beyond the staff.

Really, Harry was just an oddball.

Though "Freak" was considered more apt a term.


	2. Watered Wallflowers

**Saving Harry**

**WARNINGS: Religious Fundamentalism, Sensitive Subjects Mentioned, Future Lemon - things of varying sexual nature until that point, homosexual/slash relationships, intense bullying, varying degrees of abuse. If this puts a stick in your ass and offends you, turn back now.**

**[A/N: The Vernon/Dudley Situation will be explained at a later point in the plot]**

**Following chapter has things of a sexual nature.**

**Concept and Story heavily influenced by premise of Steven King's "Carrie". I heat chicken nuggets on review flames.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter [Warner Bros. do] nor do I own Yu-Gi-Oh! Or the great concept of Carrie by S. King**

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Two<strong>

Harry felt his back sear with pain as it was bombarded with balls during the game of dodgeball. The sound of laughter surrounding him told him that the boys meant to, except for perhaps the new boys in his PE lesson who stared dumbly. Harry felt warm tears rising to his eyes from the pain of it but blinked them away, not wanting to be so weird that he'd cry from being out in dodgeball. He made his way to the stands where the other kids who were 'out' were and sat furthest away from them, laughter ringing in his ears.

He was thankful when the bell went and he was going to use the cubicle showers to wash away the sweat, quickly, before the other boys got there and filled in. There was a bathroom adjacent to it, he'd check the coast was clear and go there to change, as opposed to the changing room where everyone did it infront of one another. He never knew where to put his eyes and felt a hot flush of awkwardness, inadequacy and finally, the bruises he had to hide.

Today he was trying to get the temperature just right and took a bit longer then his normal speedy self, and panicked as he heard boys pounding on the door of his shower cubicle, trying to break the lock and swing it open so they could laugh at him naked.

He felt like one of the little pigs having his house blown down by the wolf.

_Little pig, little pig, let - me - in!_

_Not by the hair of my chinny-chin-chin!_

Harry threw his weight on the opposing side of the door, which wasn't much, but let out an exhale of relief when it stopped and their laughter was just echos. He was the lucky pig who's house was made of bricks. Thanks be to God, he couldn't handle such humiliation today. Slowly unlocking the door and wrapping ninety percent of his body in an all-eclipsing towel, he hobbled out. He was greeted with high shrieking laughter of girls and boys as he looked to the bench on the dry side of the shower room and found his uniform stolen, the boys had even brought the girls in to have a laugh. Harry wasn't sure how he stopped the tears from coming again this time, but thankfully Mr Luton, the PE coach came in and angrily shouted the girls out. It was highly inappropriate they were even in there, but his anger reached another level when he saw them all laughing at one student. The weak one that was rubbish at PE but never caused a fuss, was huddled in an overly large towel, wet, clueless and his side of the bench, bereft of clothes.

Mr Luton walked over to Harry and ordered that all of the boys wait in the locker room for him, and tried his best to comfort Harry, who just nodded absently.

"Wait here," Mr Luton said, leaving Harry to sit on the dry bench, shivering under his towel.

The boys in the locker room were smirking but groaning about being in trouble, the new foreign kids, whom nobody had really spoke to, looked mortified on Harry's behalf.

The short one with ridiculous hair proceeded to go on an indignant rant that got the attention of everyone, and their glares. Nobody stuck up for Potter. Potter was fair-game. He was lower then 'loser' on the social ladder, he was plaque.

"I don't care who did it!" came the yell of Mr Luton as he thundered in, effectively silencing everyone including Yugi who was pretty sure he'd trashed his own reputation in minutes.

"But if Harry Potter isn't in full uniform by lunch time, they'll be hell to pay," he shouted, his entire neck going up to his face was red. It was rare that Mr Luton was ever this angry.

The albino kid, who vehemently protested to being called one, ducked out of the locker room inconspicuously and made a few turns hesitantly, not wanting to get lost, until he found a giant box he'd saw on the way up, labelled _'LOST PROPERTY'._

Marik seemed the least phased by it, but found it petty and it's own level on the scale of childish cruelty, but half-wished Luton would shut up because not all of them were laughing and not everyone was involved. The boy's dispersed eventually and Marik hesitantly made his way into the shower area when Mr Luton went to try to find a head of department to ask what to do about their naked student.

The boy looked up at the sound of footsteps and had an expression of confusion as the large, tanned boy sat beside him silently. Harry continued shivering and flinched as he felt another layer on top of him, he looked up with an expression of a deer caught in the headlights. A rather large leather jacket was over his wet towel, and his wet hair dripped a little on it, Harry looked to the boy. He obviously had no idea who he was or he wouldn't have done that.

"Thank you," he said in a quiet, humble voice that Marik strained to hear.

"But you really shouldn't be seen talking to me, or being nice to me," he rushed out, all in one breath "-you're new and I attract bullies,"

"I'll talk to whoever I want," snapped the boy irritably, making Harry flinch. It seemed the new kid was not good or well rehearsed with comfort or acts of human kindness, which made the situation weirder.

Yugi had followed in, seeing Marik go and looked at the scene, and then sat at Harry's other side. Harry felt uncomfortable about the whole thing, people were talking to him - willingly, this wasn't right, they were being nice too, this was worse, and then he felt a stab of righteous annoyance as he looked at their face. It was pity. He didn't deserve pity! He didn't _want _pity!

Ryou meanwhile, was digging around until he pulled out a rather beaten up set of black tracksuit trousers, and a big shirt, and a jacket that he was surprised wasn't moth eaten. He dug around in the hopes of finding shoes, he found mismatched pumps with holes in, one school shoe and finally, a big pair of dusty, somewhat grimy, moth-eaten trainers without laces.

He made a beeline to the bathroom with them and ran them under the taps as best he could, not wanting to soak them but not wanting them to feel so disgusting you couldn't comfortably put a naked foot in it. Carrying the gear that was all mismatched in terms of size and rather beaten, Ryou stumbled his way back to the changing rooms, trying not to get lost.

Ryou hesitantly came in, surprised to see Marik there with Yugi and the boy draped in a jacket over his towel.

Yugi looked up to see Ryou holding clothes.

"I...um...went to Lost Property," he said awkwardly "-it's the best I could find,"

_Charity. It was pity and charity. Both of which he did not deserve and yet he did not want to walk to Mr Luton, naked in a towel and be sent home (selfishness). He would surely have to confess this._

_"_Thank you," said Harry again, meekly. Yugi got up along with Marik and Ryou to let Harry get changed.

"We'll wait outside, we...we don't know where English is," said Ryou quietly "-maybe you could show us?"

_So that's what they wanted. But do they really want me as a chaperon?_

Harry talked back from the cubicle, more then he'd ever spoken to another student before, testing the loudness of his voice.

"Won't you look just a little bit ridiculous with _me _showing you around?" he said, pulling the shirt over his head "-I can give you directions I guess but-"

"We don't care," came the cold, cool voice of the tanned one.

Harry didn't know how to respond to that, so he showed them to room 1b, ignoring the jeers he got on the way, that the other's showed clear distaste for. A couple of them made 'chink' comments that were silenced and most just pitied the kids for being dumb enough to walk with Potter of all people.

Harry lifted his head up and opened the door to classroom 1b and turned to the other's awkwardly.

"Um here." he said, then decided he should probably say something else to them since they had been so nice.

"M...Mr Broderick is really nice, you'll like it," with that, he scurried off to his art lesson without looking back at them as they stared after him. When Marik, Yugi and Ryou took their seats, they were quickly approached by a brown haired boy with a scowl affixed to his features.

"What where you doing with Potter of all people?" he asked.

"We were lost, he just walked us here," cut in Marik smoothly before Yugi opened his mouth to say something.

"Oh," said the boy "-because you don't really want to be out with that sort. Nobody will make a big deal out of it yet because you're...new, but just be careful who you hang out with," said the boy.

Marik wanted to snap again and say he'd hang out with whomever he liked but quickly said something else to prevent Yugi or Ryou from cocking up their reputation in under in a week. Sure, it was bad what they did to that scrappy poor kid, but he wasn't about to make his year of school actively difficult by being a righteous knight in shining armor for him.

"We'll bare that in mind," he said tightly, as Mr. Broderick came in and effectively silenced the class with roll-call.

* * *

><p>Harry's class giggled when he came in with mismatched clothes and a note from Mr. Luton explaining what happened. The art teacher's lips thinned and she directed him to the table by itself that she kept for him, it was subtle, but this way the kids couldn't ruin his work or disrupt him. All they could do was bitch about him from their seats loud enough for him to hear, and if he could hear it, so could she and then she could effectively shut them up.<p>

Harry paced himself through his work, he couldn't draw realism, most couldn't. His handwriting was ugly and spidery and his realism often turned into a series of stick people. He was okay at cartoons though, better then the others at least - and he was good at something else. The boy had a great imagination, he was so good at surrealism that it didn't matter how horribly off his anatomy was, he could stretch to about a face, but it was always good work.

The art teacher had been somewhat baffled by it at first, but grew to like Harry's art. It was no Picasso, but then again, who's where? It was always so interesting though. Sometimes she just taught a technique - like crosshatching, or how to better use wet media, and give them free range for the lesson on how they used it and what they drew.

Today was one of those lessons, where this time she put away the acrylic paint and brought out the watercolors. Harry didn't know why he pictured some things the way he did, he always had an imagination, Aunt Petunia would call it abnormal, so he didn't talk about it. Sometimes when David said he couldn't speak until spoken to, he'd dream about those words, or what the mean kids at school said. Sometimes he would picture those words in such strange ways that it'd turn into a nightmare and he'd have to wake up.

Last night he'd dreamed about how Aunt Petunia had shouted at him, and how he'd wish words would flow from his mouth the way they would with normal kids. It felt like his throat was suffocated sometimes, and he'd be scared he'd stuttered, sometimes it'd feel like the freedom to speak had been so choked out of him, that if he did, he'd be letting blood into his mouth and drown in it.

So when the bell went, the art teacher found herself staring at a shadowy, bleak portrait with green eyes, of Harry with his mouth wide open, overflowing with red.

It disturbed her, so she put it on the side and went to her office for a cup of tea.

* * *

><p>Harry did find his clothes at the end of the day, in a bin. Quickly he wiped them off and changed into them, smelling and reeking but needing to look normal when he got home. How would he explain Lost Property clothes? Exactly, he couldn't. So he ran home, feeling disgusting until he got changed.<p>

* * *

><p>Yugi Mutou had accidentally singed his reputation. The locker room incident along with being seen walking with Harry had left people too apprehensive to talk to him, so they'd sit there and just stare at his hair. He felt awkward and kept near to Ryou because of it, and Ryou had yet to be approached by anyone, he did a good job of not being noticed.<p>

Yugi wondered if he should do the same, if only for a year to survive British schooling.

Marik seemed to have caught onto this rather quick, and his uniform had gone from neat to standardly messy, as he sat at the back, rather relaxed.

_You did a good thing for that boy, you all did, _said the age old spirit of the Millennium Puzzle.

Yugi remained silent.

* * *

><p>The girls were spiteful, they didn't hit Harry like the boys did, they weren't physically mean, but they knew how to wear you down. Harry was mock-included in a conversation, but too scared to reply, knowing they were doing a big joke, Harry just inched away quietly and made his way to the study hall lockers. He couldn't have spoken in and been cheeky or coldly retort back to them even if he wanted to. He didn't know how to respond to that kind of teasing, he didn't know what to actually retort back, he didn't know how to fight back. Even if he had an insult on the tip of his tongue, he was afraid he would open his mouth and stutter, as sometimes, it felt like his mouth was filled with red, choking back his words.<p>

For another time, he was sinfully envious, and wished that he was like other kids. David said he wasn't normal yet, but he'd get there, tears wanted to rise whenever Harry thought about it. He used to do freaky things, when he was upset, or angry, things would happen. Weird things, bad things, things that were not normal. Vernon had hated it too, he'd called it "nonsense", "nonsense" that would be beaten out of him. David had been more successful though, it had happened when David saw a shattered china plate that Harry dropped, repair itself in his hands. Harry was not sure how he'd done it, nor did he want to know, but David had said that it was not the work of God. That it was the work of his parents, that it was sinful Pagan magic, that ran through his blood. The work of the devil's advocates flowing through their son.

David had taken him to the bathroom and run a cold bath, and then waved the cross over the big red jug of liquid that Harry did not want anywhere near him. David took off the yellow childproof cap and poured it into the bath tub. Harry's bruise ridden, irritated flesh had flared horribly that night as bleach was poured into he cold bath. He sneezed and he cried and he shouted over David's quotes from his King James Bible. He thrashed but his hands held him into place and pushed him back down, threatening to dip his head in it. He would wave his cross and slap it across the left of his cheek. He would recite angrily, and Harry's freakishness sent tubs of deodorant, soaps, shampoos and conditioners everywhere, Harry closed his eyes and begged it to stop. His cheek stung, his body stung, his bruises stung and he wanted it to stop.

Then all of the items had fallen with a clatter, abiding back to gravity, and David smiled.

David said he had exorcised the demon out of him, and that he would do so again if they returned. He drained the bath and washed Harry gently with a sponge, and it was this point that Harry had seen his eyes were bloodshot.

"Everything I do, I do for your own good," he had said, and Harry had remembered it since.

David Dursley loved him, and that was more then most.

So when Harry received the same letter he had when he was eleven, by means of an owl, he cried.

* * *

><p>"Did you make any friends at school today?" Isis asked, when they all got home, exhausted, throwing their schoolbags aside. Yugi didn't answer, neither did Ryou, they just looked at each other - exhausted. Odion looked worried by this response and turned to his little brother, Marik, who gave him a dry, cold expression.<p>

"Sort of," and without elaborating, headed upstairs to his room.

* * *

><p>Sometimes, Harry defied David in his own little ways, not big ways, because he still wanted Jesus to love him - but he wanted his peers to as well. He didn't say grace when he'd taken his school lunches in secret, and he would take off his cross and put it in his bag, and sometimes, he'd even look at magazines on the way to school.<p>

Now when that bloody owl had come, it felt like God's way of chastising him for doing such, as anger rose in David's eyes.

"Go to your room," he said, he had an angry reply to send back.

Relief had washed over Harry when it meant David wasn't angry with him, he was angry with the pagans sending the letters inviting him to their side. God wasn't angry at him, neither was David, so he pulled out the magazine that he'd gotten in secret. His fingers traced over the shining lips of the pretty lady on the front of it, with immaculate makeup and skin, with 'GLOSS' printed on the front. It was a girly magazine, but not many boy's left magazines lying about in study hall. It had fallen out of a girl's locker but she'd walked off before he could return it, and he'd kept it since.

The girl on the front was so pretty it made him smile, he gently turned the page, occasionally glancing to the door to make sure David or Aunt Petunia would not come in. His room had a lock that David and Petunia were in control of, not him. Keeping the magazine half covered by his bed sheet, he looked at the fashion line. He didn't find the clothes particularly interesting, but the people modelling it. The women were so confident, even more then the one's at school, with long shirts that were low cut and tight, skirts that knew their bodies and paraded their flesh in a way that would make David frown. Their heels gave them height, their hands on their hips, confidence oozing out of each air brushed picture, Harry wondered how that could really be so evil? Fingers quivering, he leafed over to another page and froze, it was a picture of the same vein, but of a man. A man in very comfortable jeans, a movie star of some sort judging by the headline calling him a film-star heart throb. He paid little attention to the article and was drawn in by the picture, finger hesitantly going down the muscled arms.

Was it wrong that he thought the man was pretty too?

Then he thought of today, how he always hid and changed away from everyone, never knowing where to put his eyes, he envied the man in the magazine, he was shirtless and had muscles where Harry's rib-cage was starting to show. He felt a little jealous but sighed, knowing jealousy was bad and rather pointless. He had nice eyes like that man, and he was gaunt but he had high cheekbones, maybe if he wasn't so tatty and thin...

All the other boys at school weren't like that, that's why he changed away from them, some had muscles - like the tanned boy, or were lithe but average like that nice albino boy that had got him clothes.

They were foreign, a bit snappish, nice so far to him though. The tanned boy had strong arms and walked down with him and the other two English, he felt a slight bit safe, even though kids were still saying things.

He was handsome, so was the albino one, even if they were a bit different. Harry felt heat rising to his face as he stared at the picture in the magazine, comparing it to the two he'd met, then his mind crossing wires and putting them in place of the model on the cover. He flinched as he felt an uncomfortable warmth filling him from the tips of his fingers, down his arms, to his trousers. Looking down, he blushed and then looked at the door, embarrassed and slightly horrified at his erection.

He had them once or twice before and hated them, usually it had been when he got up and would go away after a shower, but Aunt Petunia was in there. He prayed it would go away but he kept returning to his sick thoughts that it was _nice _to feel that way. His body felt nice all over, it couldn't be that wrong, could it? Why would God make it that way if it was so wrong? Hesitantly running a hand down his thin stomach, he stopped at his waist, feeling an ache from his crotch.

His hand shaking, he slipped under his trousers and flinched, biting down on his lip, hard. With cautiousness he brought his erection out above his trousers, panicking looking at the door.

_Please go away._

It felt so good, but he wanted it to go away before he got in trouble. His body shook as he thought of why his problem had come up in the first place, and felt desperation gather inside him. Studying his aroused self and simultaneously wishing it would disappear, he measured his body's reactions to the touch, the whole experience was foreign yet oddly elating, he'd never felt something quite like it. His eyes squeezed shut as he brought his other hand around himself firmly and let out another gasp as he stroked his rigid member. Guilt had disappeared as his body arched, overpowered by the long-since neglected feeling as Harry pumped himself desperately, feeling his lower abdomen gather pressure and flip with pleasure every time. Blood dripped from his lower bit lip causing him to let his gasp out, releasing his mouth open and letting moans slip out. It had been an accident, but he felt too good to care as his back arched forward, his fingers teasing the wet slit of his cock, just doing what felt right.

His ears were washed over with his own unwilling sounds, feeling pressure gathering at the head, he opened his eyes to see clear liquid dripping from the slit, and let out an all-encompassing shudder as his vision blurred, feeling all the pressure release from the pink swollen head. Personally forbidden images coming up into the forefront of his mind, flashing as his vision turned white and he felt a hot splurt of pleasure shooting from the slit of his cock and down his fingers and dripping to his trousers as he shook the last splatters of cum, accompanied by a guttural, helpless groan.

Panting and lying back in the bed, he felt his face go horribly red as he reached around for a towel or a tissue, and flinched as he heard the sound of his door click from the outside, and footsteps going back down the stairs.

Self-disgust washed over him now, clouding and shattering his afterglow as fear bubbled inside of him.

"Come down and set the table!" came a yell from David downstairs.

Blushing, hiding his magazine, his trousers and throwing an identical pair on, he made his way downstairs, knees feeling weak from the pleasure that had swamped him previously, he clutched the banister on his way down.

* * *

><p>David eyed him as he washed his hands at the sink and began laying the table.<p>

"Put some hot water for the tea," he said, getting up to go to the other room, nodding, Harry did so, trying to shake off his worry.

"Are you done?" David called, coming in with a big book, Harry nodded, feeling his stomach clench. The Big Book rarely meant anything good, it was the giant King James Bible that he'd brought from auction - it had been so beautiful, he had to buy it.

Harry read from The Big Book when exceptionally good, or exceptionally bad, usually, when he was bad.

"I want you to find Corinthians 6:18 before dinner," he said, normally enough. Harry nodded, he was good at finding Bible references, and David had been so proud at how quickly he'd picked up the skill. His eyes found the quote and read it across in his head.

**'1 Corinthians 6:18**

**_Flee from sexual immorality. All other sins thou commits are outside the body, but whoever sins sexually, sins against their own body [self abuse]'_**

Masturbation was 'self-abuse' ?

Harry's eyes widened, he had been caught, and as this moment dawned on him, he yelped in pain as the book was slammed shut across his hands by David with a force. David was shouting now, but this time Harry could not keep the tears from coming, he'd done this himself, and it was wrong, horribly wrong.

"Why, why must you run into sin the minute it comes before you?" he snapped at Harry as if he were a hopeless case.

"First the owls, then the demons, and now this?" he said, swaying slightly as if trying to keep the rage from pouring out. Harry cried, he cried that he was sorry even though he wasn't sorry at the time, even though he'd brought himself to orgasm with no regrets, he kept crying he was sorry.

"Sin does not go unpunished," as he said this, he grabbed the kettle and poured the steaming water into a bowl, then without warning, he slid Harry's hands out of the book and held them into the bowl. He screamed at first, his skin feeling sore, red, swollen, stinging and ready to peel as the boiling water burned his hands horribly. The tears kept coming, then, he felt the water cool. His mind reeled - it was the 'nonsense' again, he prayed David would not notice the steamy wisps had stopped or put a pinkie into the bowl of water.

Pulling his hands out by his wrists, David put the Big Book back in the living room, leaving Harry shaking.

Aunt Petunia silently brought in the useless painkillers, fed them dry to the boy and left as David came in with bandages.

"I have school tomorrow," choked out Harry "-how will I write?"

"You will survive, your skin will stop bloating over night, it will hurt but you will live. Your skin will shed into the bandages, never use your hands for sin again," this, was cleansing.

"Is there anything else you must tell me?" said David, waiting for a confession.

_I accepted charity, _Harry wanted to say, but something told him _no, not if you want to live._

_I thought of boy's while I sinned against my body._

_I still have the 'pagan nonsense' inside of me, Sir._

"No Sir," _Why did I just lie?_

Then, when Harry thought the worst was over, the sound of a _tap, tap, tap_ could be heard.

It was another owl, carrying another wax-sealed letter.

"Go to your cupboard and pray, I'll deal with this," said David.

Harry went without protest, he needed forgiving.


	3. Snapping Stems

**Saving Harry**

**WARNINGS: Religious Fundamentalism - Religious Questioning even, Sensitive Subjects Mentioned, Future Lemon - things of varying sexual nature until that point, homosexual/slash relationships, intense bullying, varying degrees of abuse. If this puts a stick in your ass and offends you, turn back now.**

**Concept and Story heavily influenced by premise of Steven King's "Carrie". I heat chicken nuggets on review flames.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter [Warner Bros. do] nor do I own Yu-Gi-Oh! Or the great concept of Carrie by S. King**

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Three<strong>

Have you ever been so hungry that it keeps you awake, what about in pain? Two tablets every few hours did little to sooth the pain on Harry's hands that he could not sleep on. David and Petunia had not let him run them beneath colder so that they would not swell and had just bandaged them up, Harry knew they would take longer to heal, as swollen as they were. He knew he should go to hospital for it, it was a rare moment where the pain had crossed a line, but Harry knew he would not get to go. His 'nonsense' would heal it up, if he let it, but he didn't know how to make it do what he wanted. It was that Pagan power, he didn't want it, but the fact was it was there, no matter if exorcised, or prayed away, the same as he'd tried with praying _the feelings _away.

"_Magic_," he whispered to himself, on his bed, testing the word and making himself flinch. It was sin and it was disgusting, it was why God struck his parents down in that awful car crash and they'd marked him with it forever on his forehead.

He had two short dreams, waking up now and then from the pain his hands had caused him, feeling tears slide into the pillowcase, he wondered briefly if he was going to die. Sweat all over his persons, he panted softly in the covers, feeling his heart beat so fast his chest hurt now too. He remembered that face from his nightmares, the Pagan nightmares - that was what David had called them, of giants on motorcycles, screams and green lights. It was why he had a crucifix nailed to the headboard of his bed, but the dreams still came. Then the ones of girls or worse, the boys, and he felt a wild stab of pain in his hands every time he thought of yesterday because of where his teenage lust had gotten him.

Through his bleary vision - his glasses left on the table beside his bed, he could make out the demon of his dreams. He was sure he was hallucinating, from the tablets, lack of sleep and sheer pain after the nightmare, but clutched onto the covers tightly that night and whispered uncertainly into the pillow until it went.

"_If I should die before I wake_," he squeezed his eyes shut "_-I pray the Lord my soul to take,_" he took the tail end of the children's prayer, and kept on saying it, until the red-eyed snake-like man-figure disappeared from the end of his bed and his mind cleared. He tried to sleep.

* * *

><p>Then the battered alarm from the previous child, Harry's biological cousin Dudley left behind, went off.<p>

Sometimes, Harry wondered how Dudley and Vernon were, they'd been awful but he still wondered - not out of care but curiosity. He imagined Dudley stuffing his face with chocolate gatto cake, never feeling this kind of starvation, never praying before what little dinner he had, as Dudley never had 'little' dinners and never prayed either. He imagined Dudley getting paid into going to a posh private school that he did not deserve to be at, having friends the way that Harry never got to.

Harry slowly rose up to get ready for school, trying to ignore the searing pain as he slowly got changed.

He felt envy.

_First the owls, then the demons, then the boys, then envy._

He could not help but feel disgusted, even more so when he looked upon the crucifix nailed to his headboard and felt something else, _resentment._

He asked for His protection and resented Him too, and himself - what sort of hypocrite was he?

A hypocrite with _sick _power and _sick _feelings, what God would make him this way?

And then, Harry hated himself.

* * *

><p>David must have felt guilty, he fed Harry a small breakfast of Wheaties cereal as his hands shook too much for the spoon.<p>

It had taken him an hour to get ready due to the profound difficulty of doing up the buttons to his polo-shirt and doing his tie, holding a hairbrush, every little action associated with getting ready was far too taxing. Harry felt like his hands would simply drop from the ends of his arms and that all that kept them attached to his wrists were the tight bandages.

Keeping his beaten up shoulder bag weight on his shoulder or arm, he avoided picking it up directly with his hands, looping his arm through the sagging strap which it was on the floor and jocking it to his shoulder blade.

David looked at his hands when he'd come down and very quietly pulled Harry aside.

"I don't want phone calls home," he said "-I want you to do your full day at school,"

Harry nodded, he wouldn't come home early even if they'd let him.

"You had a kitchen accident," said David tensely, glancing at Harry's mummified-hands and then into the tired green orbs of the unfortunate boy.

"Yes Sir," that would be what he'd have to tell anyone who asked.

"It's not intense, it does not require medical assistance, stay in your lessons," in other words, don't go to the school nurse, and don't let any staff try to take you there either, downplay it, put your head down and shut up. Like a good boy.

"Yes Sir," Yes Sir, no sir, three-bags-full sir, thought Harry scathingly.

"Have a good day at school," said David, opening the door for him, Harry nodded, and felt a soft bitter smile making it's way over his face.

"I will Sir," Harry decided that today would be his last day of the wretched place.

* * *

><p>Harry came to school late that day, not that anyone really noticed. Today would be a good day he decided, he had Mr Broderick for English for two whole hours in a double lesson, and the mean music teacher had left and Mr Dale was there now. Mr Dale was always nice and let Harry work on his own and never made him perform infront of everybody because he knew he was shy. He just didn't like the pitying look that Mr Dale gave him all the time. He had music right after and then art, on a Friday he had mixed art with the other class, because the pottery students would use the regular one. Harry didn't used to like the big class because more people would tease him, but today he decided he didn't care, because he liked art.<p>

Holding a pen was extremely difficult, Mr Broderick had all but forced Harry to try to see the nurse until he told him he had a kitchen accident and put on his best act of innocence to persuade him that it the bandages made it look worse then it was.

Mr Broderick knew something was wrong, when he standardly asked Harry how he was doing when he was last to leave, as usual.

"You alright?" he asked, not knowing Harry had lied about how bad his hands were, not seeing how shaky and poor his spidery handwriting had been in the lesson.

"Yes Sir," he lied, and normally, David said these kinds of lies were like white lies, that they were okay.

Mr Broderick's annual conversation would usually end there, and Harry would leave. This time, Harry stopped before the door and looked over his shoulder and said quite earnestly...

"Goodbye Mr Broderick,"

"Bye Harry,"

He felt a pang of indescribable feeling, but shrugged it away, it was just a 'bye', his lesson was over after all.

So why did it feel like something more?

* * *

><p>In Mr Dale's music class, Harry brightened when he saw Ryou Bakura, Marik Ishtar and Yugi in it, even though Marik wasn't really talking and Yugi looked like he was wondering what he should say. Harry cringed inwardly at the bubbly warmth in his stomach as Mr Dale smiled and paired him with Ryou, who grinned at him and began setting up the keyboard, Harry couldn't smile back, his face feeling hot.<p>

Now was one of those times where it felt like his mouth would pour with red.

Ryou hesitantly began trying to play first, trying to play through the very basic tune as they were all behind in their subjects. Harry sat back until Ryou said it was his turn.

"_C-C-Cant_," squeaked out Harry finally. Mr Dale frowned and walked over before Ryou could encourage Harry to give it a try.

"Is there a problem Mr Potter?" he asked softly, cutting in.

Harry slowly raised his hands from his lap and letting his overly large sleeve roll up slightly to reveal heavily bandaged hands. Ryou's eyes widened, they looked swollen under the bandages and Yugi abruptly prodded Marik, who caught the glimpse of it.

"Mr Potter?"

"Kitchen accident," Harry shrugged as nonchalantly as possible "-it's okay Sir, M' seeing a doctor after school," he lied.

Mr Dale nodded slowly, and turned to Ryou "-continue playing Mr Bakura, examine his form and peer assess how he does Harry,"

"Okay Sir,"

Harry looked away from Ryou's questioning glance, feeling the ugly attractions, he could feel the stare of the other two students and sighed as they lingered to talk to him when the bell had gone.

Harry frowned slightly.

"I-T-Thanks for being nice to me," he managed out, and silenced their questions "-t-this is nothing, I-I'll see you around," he swallowed, his face and neck feeling hot as they looked at him and his stomach clenched.

"Bye!" called out Harry, and quickly dodged past them before they could follow.

Marik finally noticed that today, Harry wore a cross to school.

_'The creepy religious kid, stay away, Potter's a loser,'-_ Daniel had said yet he hadn't even seen evidence Potter was religious, it appeared so, mentally noting it, he left for his next class with Ryou and Yugi left for Geography. He wondered just how many of the nasty rumors were true.

* * *

><p>Harry did not go into his art class, but he did tell his art teacher 'bye' claiming he needed to go to the bathroom before lesson started, she nodded and let the sweet boy go. The raven haired mess looked on blankly, even as he was shoved in the corridor, he ducked into the normal art class before the Pottery students would pile in and made his way to the store cupboard. There was one in every art class, they kept paints and different mediums and paper in there, things like clay were kept in locked piles elsewhere. Harry knew this cupboard would empty and nobody would use it - likely until the next regular art class next week. Today was Friday, the cleaners never went in there, they would find him on Monday.<p>

He took the small stool used to get the brushes off the top shelf and put it directly beneath the low hanging metal pipe. Moving a box of stacked up papers infront of the door to barricade it in, he got up on the stool and took off his tie.

His whole life he'd been hated.

Dudley hated him, Vernon had hated him, Aunt Petunia had always hated him, and David always said he'd loved Harry but he'd gone a step worse then the others and made him hate himself. The kid's at school hated him, they made his life hell. They shoved him, pushed him, spat at him, teased him, pranked him, blamed him and wore him down ever since his first year there.

He tried to rub away that awful freakishness that the kid's saw in him too and defied David in many little ways as a sacrifice to get them to like him. He took his cross off before school usually and never said grace when he used to have free school lunches. He never mentioned religion and did his best not to appear like the reverend did but it never did no good.

He would go home feeling worthless, then David would say Jesus still loved him - knowing he was bullied horribly, but would only love him if he did this, this and this, and did not do this, this and this, and renounced his freakish ways.

Oh how he tried, but he did not know how, he must not have been doing it properly but then he realized he was born this way.

Harry could not take the sick Pagan-ness out of him anymore then he could remove the envy, the anger, the jealousy, gluttonous desire or lust from himself either. David would try to help him every day with doing so but it never worked, maybe he was born for Hell.

He was jealous of Piers Polkiss, he gluttonously took school food, he was angry at God and had - or wanted to touch himself when spiked with lust - girls _and _boys like some sort of whore, his pagan magic would defy his guardian-acting-as-father whom God said he had to honor. He was everything he didn't want to be and hated among it all.

Harry would explain himself to God, and let God judge, not David - as he could not take a life that took so much pain, in his hands, in his stomach and in his heart as he cried and wished that he was liked.

The tie was knotted into a hoop and cleverly into a noose that hung from the ceiling-fixed stone pipes.

He pulled his head through it slowly, bandaged hands shaking as he squeezed his eyes shut, feeling warm liquid slide down his cheeks and a bitter smile came over him. Harry would have to kick the stool away, his head would be pulled by the tie, his neck would snap. He pictured how his body would sway and how one of those bastard children may find him instead of the pitying art teacher who never did enough when kids picked on him.

He hoped he'd be in there nightmares.

Just as he was about to jump into the noose and kick the stool away, the box of stacked papers was pushed back with ease as the door opened.

* * *

><p>"Try the next store cupboard next door you two, here's a key, just bring the whole box of A3," said Miss Funnelworth, giving a small silver key "-it's through the Pottery class, through Miss Kennel's art office - should be empty, and on the left," they had run out of paper totally and Miss Funnelworth needed to restock her cupboard.<p>

Ryou and Marik nodded and made a beeline for the Pottery class, ignoring the looks as they cut right through it after briefly explaining to the Pottery teacher.

There was a black curtain between Miss Kennel's office and the 'Pottery' art class room, a shut-down computer and messy office was true to Miss Funnelworth's words - empty.

On the left wall was a white wooden door, reading "Store Cupboard,", putting the key in, Ryou tried opening the door and felt something on the other side.

"Help me push it open Marik,"

So they did, and they gasped.

* * *

><p>Harry felt the cross resting on his neck and touched it briefly.<p>

_Forgive me David, I really can't undo what I was born as. I did try though, and i'll tell God you did your best._

Grabbing a pair of scissors off the shelf, a pale set of hands immediately cut the tie with a gentle 'snip', Harry felt the material of the noose slide down his body and slowly opened his eyes -what happened? Did it come undone?

**_"What the hell do you think you're doing?" _**broke the silence, Harry looked up startled.

* * *

><p>They were met with the sight of bloodshot eyes and a demented grin which had dropped instantly when they'd gone into the cupboard, it was perhaps one of the more disturbing things they'd seen in a while.<p>

It was Harry Potter, with a noose made of out his school tie, around his head and neck.

**_"What the hell do you think you're doing?"_ **Marik had said, stealing the words right from Ryou's mouth.

Harry slowly got off the stool, and then, he cried.


	4. Rose Bud

**Saving Harry**

**WARNINGS: Religious Fundamentalism, Sensitive Subjects Mentioned, Future Lemon - things of varying sexual nature until that point, homosexual/slash relationships, intense bullying, varying degrees of abuse. If this puts a stick in your ass and offends you, turn back now.**

**Concept and Story heavily influenced by premise of Steven King's "Carrie". I heat chicken nuggets on review flames.**

**Also yes, I did just change pen name [DementedWitch is now Audacia's Quill] & STUFF IN ITALIC IN A/N AREA IS SKIPPABLE. **

_REALLY LONG AUTHOR'S NOTE: Now, in response to my fabulous reviewers, I feel like I have to address something about Harry's treatment and why I've written it/his life, the way I have. This is a little personal to me so feel free to skip on to the story. But basically, British schooling isn't roses, at least, not in some areas. This is the case where I am, and having been to a myriad of local secondary schools, I can say, there's always kids who slip through the cracks. In some schools more then others, but I know for many years, that child was me. I had teachers who cared, but just as easily forgot - in a massive rough school of hundreds. I know teachers have a degree of responsibility to look out for their students, but sometimes things don't always work out for the unlucky few. I wish I had been lucky, I guess I was in the sense that I never had it as bad as Harry, but I've still got a firm collection of bruises and bad experiences. And some schools have a poor handling of "suicide kids," believe me. Before this turns into a pity-parade, I'd like to clarify why I'm sharing this. This is so all you conscientious readers can be aware that yes, sometimes unbearably cruel things can happen and we will let it slide by in society, but also, to keep a watch out for it. Please don't be one of those kinds of people that forgets, just like the rest of the world. Say no to bullying, don't do it, don't allow it, and most of all, try to extend help to the people it happens to. Sometimes, it isn't overt, but that doesn't mean it's not there._

_/END PSA. _

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter [Warner Bros. do] nor do I own Yu-Gi-Oh! Or the great concept of Carrie by S. King**

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Four<strong>

They found themselves on the floor, pulled down by the boy who had leaped down from the tiny stool. Marik's question had gone unanswered, in fact many of them had. More and more questions seemed to fly from the Egyptian boy and as highly inappropriate as it was, it was simply an overcompensation for not knowing what to say, not knowing what to do. The three of them sat with their backs against the inside-locked door of the store room, Ryou seemed to be the one taking the most charge and trying to physically soothe the boy. It seemed like an hour before he'd actually said anything, and when he had, he kept his knees to his chest and buried his face away.

It was like he couldn't bare to look at them.

Those two were perhaps the worst people to find him, not because of their response, but because they embodied everything that Harry wanted to get away from. They were representative of the _feelings, _he loathed and the _charity _he had accepted, since he had accepted it from them during the PE incident. He had to stop every part of his eyes from wanting to water at how badly he wanted to accept the pity-friendship.

But he didn't because he didn't want to ruin their lives by-association and have that horrible 'freak' umbrella cast a shadow over them. Yet they still made that avoidance hard, even after he made a point of scurrying away after any lesson he shared with either of them.

_"Why?" _one of them - Ryou - asked.

"Everything," was the blunt, tearful response as Harry gracelessly wiped his tears with balled up fists, like a child.

Their hushed stage-whispers seemed to indicate they wanted to tell a teacher, and every internal alarm went off in Harry.

"'M not supposed to make a fuss," he managed finally, silencing the conversation between the two "-not supposed to have the school c-call home, si-David wouldn't like it very much,"

"This is serious," said Marik finally, perhaps one of the smarter things to come out of his mouth "-if we let this go, it'd be on our head if anything..." he stumbled awkwardly "-if you..." he stopped trying to say it, but the unspoken words were there: _if you tried to top yourself._

"-no!" cried Harry, raising his tone slightly, then glancing back into his knees at their questioning looks.

"-the school will call safeguarding and they'll call the social and I'm just 'uposed to put my head down and get on with it!" he snapped "-I don't want to get my family or the school in trouble,"

Harry felt sick as the lies finally bubbled out of his mouth.

"Home is_ fine_, I've just had a bad time since the kitchen thing a-and the PE accident, I mean normally it's not actually that bad and there's only a few months of year eleven really-calling people in and that just to make it harder isn't going to help," he said adamantly.

"David is good to me," _he beats me sometimes, but not that hard, only when I'm bad, really bad._

"Everyone is, it was just..school," he lied, and he lied, and he lied, until they flowed seamlessly from his lips, and until the frown disappeared from the albino's face.

But Marik didn't buy it for one minute.

* * *

><p>They had skipped school for the whole of the afternoon when the Pottery students had left. Marik had insisted on it even though Ryou insisted on trying to convince Harry to tell one of the staff at school.<p>

Marik had a reason for this, surprisingly not a selfish one.

Because out of the corner of his eye, when Harry had been crying in that closet, he had seen a bottle of PVA glue float in mid air behind Ryou's head. He hadn't mentioned it, he hadn't brought it up, but he knew it was coming from Harry - he could practically sense the strange power in waves. Whatever else was wrong with Harry may be a matter far out of the hands of simple school administrators and could easily be to do with something else. Magic.

Marik knew Harry had it, Ryou might have sensed it or at least suspected it along with Yugi. He was one of those British wizard's he'd heard of.

There was also the more personal reasoning behind the matter. Marik - not being the most empathetic or sensible kid in the world, could easily tell that school was not the place for Harry in his state, especially as it was the heavily emphasized reason for Harry's attempted - _you know.._

It didn't bare thinking about.

They stayed at McDonalds, the foreign staffers didn't seem to pick up on the fact they were blatantly out of school, Marik had brought Harry a burger, and watched awed when he admitted it was his first.

"That just means he's healthy," butted in Ryou, seeing how uncomfortable Harry was becoming, as if the pain in his hands from gripping the bun wasn't hard enough to work through.

"_Yeah right_, I don't think I've ever seen him eat before - you're dead skinny you know that," said Marik carelessly.

Harry instead, took on a smile and began laughing with Marik.

"I know, standing next to you, you look like Godzilla," he snorted, pointing a fry at Marik as he said it.

For the first time in a long time, Harry was laughing, really laughing - so hard he could ignore the pain in his palms and finger tips. Smiling so much his face hurt, blushing so much his stomach had butterflies flying mini-kamikazes in it. Color rising to moon-pale skin, an almost healthy rosiness, however temporary it was. Food was flung, they were kicked out of McDonalds but Harry actually felt _full, _of some of the most deliciously unhealthy food to ever pass his lips.

_ The feelings _were still millin' around inside of him but for today he didn't care because he began to enjoy the feeling of his toes curling and his cheeks blushing, running faster then the wind on a full stomach as they played games far too young for teenagers of their age.

The words had begun to flow easily from his lips, no longer hiccuped, just like normal kids.

_Normal kids._

Except for Harry this was all sinful, but today, he didn't care.

* * *

><p>He had such a nice laugh, such a nice smile that goes right up to his nice green eyes, he was sweeter then sugar, never swore and the concept of basic fun was so foreign that the naivety was cute. There was such an innocence and yet gleam of positiveness in the very core of the bullied boy that Ryou Bakura forgot why the kids at Stonewall hated him to begin with, he was almost un-hateable. He had a genuine child-like joy for swings as if he'd never sat on one before, fastfood, phones, games and tech was almost alien to him apart from school basics. It was a strange and yet endearing kind of innocence, as they opened up the world for the boy to try, and held his hand through it, so that perhaps the idea of wrapping a rope around his neck would seem unthinkable now. He had too many things to enjoy and there's never enough space in a lifetime to do it all, so why end it early?<p>

As the setting sun illuminated the skies in murks of beautiful colours, they could not help but see the radical difference in Harry when they took him away from it all.

The boy did not want to go home.

Then again, it wasn't usual, kid's usually didn't after a long day of hanging out with friends, and this being Harry's first - it was no surprise. Harry seemed to actually hate going home, in fact, as they played until dark he had gathered he hated a lot of things.

He hated Aunt Petunia's chores. He hated David Dursley's chores. He hated punishments. He hated not having fun and being normal but most of all - he hated his carers. Not enough to want them reported, and to up-heave his entire life to sorting them out, but enough to resent the idea he could be saved and deprive himself from the fun of sin that he felt, he was born to enjoy. He resented them for pushing him into a self-loathing life that always said he wasn't good enough or normal enough.

"If you ever want to come over, just come," Ryou had said.

Marik and Ryou dropped Harry off a little way from his house and walked across to Number 8, where they lived, peeking from the curtains of their windows as they saw Harry be pulled in roughly by his shoulder, and the door locked with multiple locks clicking.

What a weird little house.

* * *

><p>Aunt Petunia had grabbed him by the ear so hard it hurt, he wondered if it might bleed. He pulled a face and yelled at her to let go, then she did and struck him hard with her long-nailed hand for talking back.<p>

"Where _were _you?" she yelled about him staying out all day, about the school calling to say he bunked off, about how David was in the garage fixing the car and would come in to deal with him. That David had spent hours thinking of a punishment for not coming home, for bunking off.

The words poured from his mouth, unhindered - for the first time in many years.

"I went out!"

"Where?" she snapped.

"With my _friends!_" he yelled back, adding confidence to the last note.

"You're supposed to come straight home! You even skipped your entire afternoon just to play with neighborhood scraps?" she screeched and his ears rung.

"You only want me to stay home to do more work, you want to keep me in," he retorted, feeling adrenaline override his self-preservation.

"You want to keep me in just like you tried keeping Uncle Vernon in while you made eyes at David!" he choked out, despite Petunia's rapid changes in shade and angry expression. She flinched and scowled as the sound of Harry stomping his foot came down suddenly.

"It didn't work with him and it don't work with me!" the sound of a heavy clatter broke the argument before Petunia could let out an insane rage.

**"Get upstairs, and go to the bathroom,**" came a cold, hard hiss, as David stood in the doorway, oil-dripped crowbar on the carpet.

* * *

><p>Harry would have said no, had it not been for the unnaturally unforgiving look in the man's eye.<p>

Fear swept him as he waited, and waited, and waited on the edge of the bathtub.

He flinched as he heard loud male footsteps coming up the stairs to the bathroom, the door opening, and David carrying a grey canister, not of bleach, not of hot water, not of something he recognized. Harry's eyes widened and he screamed and spat wildly as the jug of liquid was sloshed all over him, and David bound his body so he could not fiddle with the taps, sitting him in the tub. He gagged and spat, nearly throwing up wildly as it had landed in his mouth and eyes, he cried out the tingling sensation and spat the awful taste as best he could.

It was petrol.

Forgetting something, David turned calmly and left the bathroom, unable to lock it from the outside to go downstairs and get a set of matches reserved for the candelabra.

Thrashing wildly and painfully landing himself on the floor, Harry squirmed out of the bathroom, like a combination of a worm and a beached whale, spitting wildly as he did. The taste was revolting, it was everywhere, he could feel it wetting his clothes and skin. He wriggled out of his binds and felt his freakishness do something 'warm' as they slid from his body like an old pajama set.

He ran into his bedroom, it had no inside lock but he couldn't get out from the front, they were both downstairs.

His heart jumped in his chest as he tried to barricade the door though his hands could not push the closet, and he heard approaching footsteps up the stairs. Tears and desperation over coming him, he tried to open his window, which only every jimmied a few centimeters so he couldn't sneak out.

Harry ran to the back of the room, not seeing a heavy object, he bolted forwards, leaning to his right side like he was battering down a door, into the glass.

* * *

><p>The rain of shards and piercing sound of the shatter sent everyone within radius into flinches and sudden pandemonium. Harry screamed as he finally hit the ground, landing on his left leg and hurting his ankle horribly, he dragged himself through the street, no longer caring.<p>

He didn't care that David was screaming out of the shattered window.

He didn't care that Aunt Petunia was trying to follow him, he dragged himself through the traffic to the other side of the road and pounded desperately on the first house he saw, tears flowing, reeking of petrol, and falling to his knees in pain as he grabbed onto the person who answered the door's clothes.

_"Please, you have to help me,"_

To Hell with them, no upheaval could be as bad as burning alive.

David Dursley had wanted to burn him alive.

"Oh my God, come inside," said the woman, half-lifting him in and slamming the door in the face of Aunt Petunia who had finally crossed the street.

It would all be over now, the hell at home had to be.


	5. A Withered Hero's Catharsis

**Saving Harry**

**WARNINGS: Religious Fundamentalism, Sensitive Subjects Mentioned, Future Lemon - things of varying sexual nature until that point, homosexual/slash relationships, intense bullying, varying degrees of abuse. If this puts a stick in your ass and offends you, turn back now.**

**Concept and Story heavily influenced by premise of Steven King's "Carrie". I heat chicken nuggets on review flames. (also Britslang for this chapter, 'Old Bill' and "Bobbies" means police :) )**

**A/N: Would like to add that the actions of the adults involved in Harry's life at this point are narrowly based off what I've known and experienced, the system DOES and probably HAS changed, but I'd like to stress that we have a very bad method of dealing with 'suicide/abused kids'. So please leave the nitpicking of what happens to Harry during the aftermath, at the door. Every domestic is different in it's way, and for one as extreme as this, leave leeway.**

**Also yes, I did just change pen name [DementedWitch is now Audacia's Quill] **

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter [Warner Bros. do] nor do I own Yu-Gi-Oh! Or the great concept of Carrie by S. King**

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Five<strong>

To say he had merely crossed one street with glass embedded into a badly hurt ankle and leg, was discrediting Harry to how far his magic and his panic had pushed him to walk until he'd pounded on the first house that he laid eyes on which had Number 4 completely out of his peripheral vision. If he had gone straight across, it was entirely debatable if anyone would have let him in, despite his state. There had also been the horrible fear that Petunia would catch up to him, grab him by the ankles and drag him back to hell. It was as if every embedded belief in his body had been put into a stasis, like his bones were forcing him into self-preservation as he tried to run from the inducers of the awful bloodcurdling fear that lived in Number 4.

He had no idea who the aged woman was, having never been this far into the neighborhood before. He tried to be neither seen nor heard, though used to be plenty talked about until Petunia put the spotlight on herself. There were some people that didn't even know about the raven-haired resident of Number 4, but this woman was unfortunately one of them. But it may have played in Harry's favor, as she did not see a no-good religious little whack-job that still went "off the rails", no, she saw a wrecked teenager pulling shards of glass from his injured leg, crying and reeking to high heaven of petrol.

She called the old bill, naturally.

The police had come over in what sounded like swarms, when in actual fact it was just a single car with back up on hand for what sounded like an intense domestic-aftermath. Harry could hardly feel the time slip by as he fingered the piece of glass in his hand, a shard from the window that he'd limped across the street with, embedded in his skin that he'd pulled out.

The police pounded on her door as she tried to tend to Harry, who sat on her sofa like a dumbstruck creature, blood sliding down his leg.

"I'll get it!" came a male voice from upstairs "-bloody hell mum, what's going on? Who called the old bill?" the voice was familiar though far more informal then the one Harry's mind was thinking of.

The woman seemed to stammer out her shouts, still in some shock herself, trying to warn her far-too-old-to-be-living-at-home son to stay upstairs. Her efforts were in vain when she heard heavy plodding down the stairs and him going through the other room to open the door for the police, unawares as to what was going on.

"Good evening officers," _that _voice was familiar.

"May we come in? We received a call that the boy is here?" one of the policeman said, and before the twenty year old could answer, his mother came in from the kitchen and pulled the police inside, ignoring her son's befuddled look.

"He's in the living room,"said the woman, paramedics seem to swarm in just behind the police, good Lord, how many people were called? Wondered the confused older male. Even more confused about them coming for someone in their house that he was unaware of, he quickly did the mental addition that his mum must have called them, though as to why, that was a question itself.

Which answered itself when he saw Harry Potter in his living room.

Those vivid green eyes behind damaged glasses, that knew too much cruelty from peers and adults, the boy who wrapped his secrets in his overly large school uniform. He felt his jaw hang loose comically as he watched paramedics approach the sofa and begin looking at cuts on his legs as bobbies sat on the other sofa chairs.

_"Harry?" _managed the shocked man.

_"Mr Broderick?"_ came the equally shocked response, from a scream-ached throat.

One of the policemen - a short stubby man with brown hair and directly infront of Harry from his seat, cut the moment like a knife.

"Perhaps you could answer a few questions lad?" They said things to comfort Harry, but none of them stuck or meant anything really, until the other let slip that his relatives had been less then compliant when they'd gone to check the shattered window on the way up, and pieced together the 999 call made earlier, with the Dursley's window. David had given chase and was being apprehended by the backup and Petunia was under questioning. Originally, David had still been seething and had been rude to the police, his perfect facade more broken then his upstairs window, the chase that ensued had been originally from trying to get away for being charged for being aggressive toward an officer.

Now it seemed that the Dursley's were being chased up on something far more, with child abuse being uncovered, the shattered window and angry Number 4 residents directly linked to the boy that had staggered across a block to a random house, narrowly escaping a horrible domestic.

Mr Broderick later pieced up how Harry had managed to end up on his mother's sofa, and learned a whole lot more as Harry hesitantly answered questions about his relatives, and finally explained why he smelled of petrol.

"Student of yours?" whispered the woman, Agne Broderick, bringing in cups of tea for all. Mr Broderick - William Broderick, nodded numbly.

It was surreal, horrible and yet surreal.

It only seemed to feel like reality when Harry uttered those words that became forever indented into his mind.

_He tried to burn me alive._

* * *

><p>Harry was taken into the NHS children's ward, despite being a teenager there was a great lack of beds and it took hours before he received an x-ray of his legs. In the mean time he had doctors and outside people coming in and out. He heard something about 'social services' now and then, but was too numb to care.<p>

He'd finally did it.

He finally told on the Dursleys, and now, his life was in the hands of the state.

* * *

><p>Mr Broderi-no, William, Harry reminded himself, adamantly stayed by Harry's bed side. Visiting hours were discarded as many parents would stay with their children in the ward, so William stayed with Harry in his, so that he would not feel alone.<p>

He was still reeling inside, but it answered questions - why the Dursley's never took an interest, why they were never at a parent's evening, and why they'd never pick up the phone whenever called by the school. Harry never quite realized just how much some teacher's had noticed, he'd never quite realized how much William had or the true depth of the importance of each little two second conversations at the end of English were.

"We'll do the papers, we'll have you stay with us," it was like William knew that Harry had nobody.

Well, he did know, mentally corrected Harry - he had access to the fact he had no other living relatives way before he ended up in hospital. He knew through the school after a curious inquiry or two.

William Broderick spoke with such conviction, that Harry felt a small wash of relief.

Even though it was surreal enough that his twenty-year-old English teacher still lived with his mom, was currently in a tweed shirt and jeans, trying not to bawl.

"I'll make some calls in, I won't be going into school and neither will you, social services have some questions," said William "-and then they'll be paperwork for me and my mother,"

"They'll discharge you when they've looked your leg over some more and after we've confirmed some provisions for you," said William assuredly, trying to get the rust of dryness out of his throat, the whole time, he'd tried not to let himself cry slightly as he wondered how he could have let the depth of the Dursley's abuse slip right by him.

"You'll be okay,"

Harry sighed and felt a strange sense of relief, like one long battle was finally over.

* * *

><p>"This isn't the police station," said Petunia dumbly in the back of the police car, fear swelling inside of her as she wrung her bony hands. The car with David Dursley in it trailed behind them, heading for a white building after many of twists and turns. The building itself had only become visible after she'd heard something foreign drip from the mouth of the driving officer, and her body froze as several figures came out of the front door, looking very imposing. She was all but thrown at them along with her husband, who was inches from foaming at the mouth, but was effectively silenced when she let out an uncontrolled, ripping scream as the figures drew out an all-too-familiar device. Several slender, rigid sticks of wood had been drawn from their sleeves, and her wrists became bound by magic, as were David's, the metal cuffs used by the muggle officer, dropped to the floor with a clatter.<p>

"Petunia and David Dursley you're under arrest on the charge of abusing a magical minor, you have the right to remain silent, I suggest you use it," said an auror coldly, pushing them into the building.

"You're staying in the squib custodial block," said the other one with a dark expression "-and if the records match up to the one's we have, of the poor child under your care," the auror hushed under his partner's look and whispered the rest angrily.

"You can expect the worst,"

* * *

><p>When the alarm went off on Dumbledore's desk, it was a surprise, he hadn't had any activity from it in years, it sat next to the stacks of letters from a soon-to-be-student that would riddle his mind until he finished his muggle term and would come to Hogwarts. Late yes, but better late then never.<p>

He'd always expected a burst of huge accidental magic to set off the alarm on the Dursley household, but instead, were many suppressed heavy shivers of power that ran cracks through the curious magical gizmo, that resembled a re-calibrated foe glass. Cracks that Dumbledore had never noticed, the very cracks that Harry had slipped through.

Imagine his surprise when he gets an urgent fire-call from Ministry auror and Order of the Phoenix member Kingsley Shacklebolt about the arrest of Potter's guardians.

He choked on his lemon drop when he learned that in all the years he hadn't checked on them, Petunia had remarried.

The lemon drop came flying out of his mouth and stuck to his beard when he heard the charges on which the Dursleys had been arrested on.

* * *

><p>Officer McAdam had to be sure when he saw the boy in the house, shaking, covered in petrol with a lightning bolt scar, that felt all to familiar, like he'd heard of it from somewhere, in a revered fairytale he hadn't heard in years.<p>

Then he boy had told him his name, and it all came flooding back to him and he ended up calling the magical world for the first time in years about the abuse of Harry James Potter, the legend told to every wizard, witch and squib in Britain.

And he thought he'd seen it all in his job.

* * *

><p>They didn't wonder to much why Harry wasn't in school, but they were worried, they all remembered the loud and yet mysterious circumstances in which he'd infamously jumped out of a window to run away. But Ryou, Yugi and Marik had worried when they heard the sound of sirens and the quickly spread news of the Dursleys arrest, then Isis had looked out of the window and commented about a black-haired teenager being bundled away by paramedics, injured, shaking.<p>

Marik ended up talking to his older brother in Odion the night after it had happened.

Marik could not sleep that night, none of them could.

It ended up in an unplanned, bleak turn of conversation, with Marik doing most of the speaking as they all sat in the unlit kitchen, at dark, when Odion had only gotten up to get a glass of water that night, but all three of the insomniacs kept him up with a tale of guilt.

They told Odion about the scrappy boy at school, Harry Potter.

The one who'd they'd been hanging out with when they had come back home at sun-down that day.

That boy they hadn't talked in depth about when Isis had asked if they'd made friends.

By the end of it, Odion could see a forced maturity in the boys that he did not want to have to see, reflecting in their eyes and burdening on their shoulders, on Ryou's and Marik's more then Yugi's, but all three of them sharing the same guilty conscience. They told him how it was Harry that had been bundled away and been at the center of whatever commotion happened that day, how it was likely something horrible had happened.

By staying silent about what was going on in the world of Harry Potter, Marik could not help but feel that they had inadvertently taken part in something horrible.

Odion could not offer a word of comfort, a slight shell-shock coming over him from the strangeness of the conversation, but finally broke the tense silence and round-table kitchen conversation when he reached a decision.

"We will visit the local hospital in the morning, I'll inform Isis about what you've told me brother, we will make sure your friend is okay,"

If it wasn't already too late.


	6. The Aftermath

**Saving Harry**

**WARNINGS: Religious Fundamentalism, Sensitive Subjects Mentioned, Future Lemon - things of varying sexual nature until that point, homosexual/slash relationships, intense bullying, varying degrees of abuse. If this puts a stick in your ass and offends you, turn back now.**

**Concept and Story heavily influenced by premise of Steven King's "Carrie". I heat chicken nuggets on review flames**

** I did just change pen name [DementedWitch is now Audacia's Quill] **

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter [Warner Bros. do] nor do I own Yu-Gi-Oh! Or the great concept of Carrie by S. King**

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Six<strong>

Isis had initially been quite angry when she had to call the school to say the all of the teenagers in her care were not attending, but after Odion pulled her away and relayed the conversation that happened that night, she softened. The next call she ended up making was to the local hospital after digging it out of the phone-book to see if Harry Potter had been checked in.

"You should have told someone sooner about what was happening to your friend," she said, after she put the phone down.

Ryou and Yugi then turned to Marik, who had been the one to insist on their silence.

"I know, but we thought it was just a school thing, if we'd have known the extent of it, we'd never have let him go back home to that place," insisted Marik - which had been true - as evidence began to point to awfully convincing hunches that Harry hadn't just been treated horribly at school, but at home as well.

"Remember when he first came in with those bandages around his hands and fingers?" said Ryou quietly as they had all gotten into the car and driven out.

"You don't think it was a kitchen accident, do you?" said Marik rather flatly.

"No, I don't," sighed the albino "-maybe we'll get some answers when we get there,"

"I just hope Harry's okay," said Yugi worriedly "-he jumped from a second story window!"

"I want to know why," spat out Marik bitterly "-but I think we've guessed it already,"

With that, they'd finally pulled up at the hospital. Isis wasn't sure if she should be angry at her younger brother and friends for their chosen course of action in the first place, sorry for the burden they had, or proud that they were maturing. Even if it was through forced and unfortunate means and circumstance. Odion had felt guilt for his brother, and a twinge sad that none of them - especially Marik - had mentioned it sooner, as far as the Teenage Problem's Scale went, this one ranked up impossibly high. He - they - should have been able to tell someone, and Isis made the clear throughout the whole painful car-ride. Odion couldn't help but silently agree, but didn't voice it due to the heaviness on the shoulder's of the teens already and the uncharacteristic shine of regret in Marik's eyes.

* * *

><p>William had come in smiling, saying the work for his temporary - at least for now - placement had been sorted, and that he could stay with the Brodericks. It had been amazing to see the teenager's face light up the entire room with a face-splitting grin. The doctor's had also looked at his hands and said they were getting better!<p>

"You're going to love it, my mum cooks the best, it's why I haven't moved ou- er, let her stay with me," coughed William, making Harry snicker.

"And guess what? You have some visitors, it's your new friends from school. I guess they're wondering why you're not in or heard something," said William after a moment.

"They live on the same block," sighed Harry "-I probably have some explaining to do,"

"You don't have to, and I can shoo them off if you want," said his English teacher worriedly.

"No... no, I'd like to see them," those awful butterflies came in his tummy again as he quickly rubbed the tiredness out of his eyes and tried to fix his outward appearance. It had taken a long shower in the hospital's facilities before he'd been able to wash the smell of petrol out and soothe his aching skin, he felt sleepy because of it. But he didn't want to miss out on a visit from actual friends. _Friends. _Could you believe it? Friends visiting him in the hospital - he'd never had visitors even when he was well, so the whole thing began to feel that little extra bit real.

"I'll leave you to it, I'm going to nip out and get you some non-hospital food," he smirked.

Harry blushed and murmured his thanks as William left.

The nurse had directed a nervous mess of teenagers into the children's ward, warning them to behave. They drew the curtain around his bed and let Harry sit upright and compose himself. There had been a moment of pause before the shortest one spoke, and all three of them being as thick as thieves, Harry resigned himself to all of them probably discussing him behind his back. In a good way of course, they were showing some concern, the surprise that they were was slightly overwhelming.

"Is - are you alright?" asked Yugi, wide-eyed "-you haven't been in school and the last we saw, you were bundled up in an ambulance and there were sirens and everything by your house,"

Harry looked at them through his bangs and tamed the discomfort in his stomach.

"It's all over," he said with a half-shrug, leaving a question in the air - 'what was 'all over' ? '

"-and...thank you, for coming to see me, I really didn't expect this," he gave them a weary smile.

"Of course, you're our friend," said Ryou with a light frown "-we were all worried and nobody could get hold of you,"

"What...happened exactly?" pressed the albino, and as he said this, Marik sat in the reclining chair beside the bed - usually reserved for parents. He had an inkling he'd need to sit down to hear whatever Harry had to say.

"Sorry for worrying you," said Harry before he could stop himself.

"Stop apologizing," sighed Marik "-you've nothing to be sorry about,"

"I...I'll tell you," he looked at the covers he fiddled with in his hands. He felt the sweat gather and his throat desire to tighten, though he refused it and forced himself to relax. "-But you have to promise that no one at school ever finds out," he felt worry put a note of strength in his voice "-_ever!"_

"Of course," assured Ryou, and they all nodded and all swore that they would never tell a single living soul at school. Part of Harry felt ashamed, while most of him from being contained so long, wanted to tell his story over and over again until the years of pain were learned by others so that he could no longer bear the cross of his horrid life.

"Well...first... thank you, if it wasn't for you guys, this never would have happened, actually, it's the best thing that's happened to me my whole life,"

That sentence was baffling - ending up in hospital, his family being taken in by the police, was somehow linked to something they'd done and it'd been the best thing to happen to him? It didn't make sense, until Harry began elaborating.

"You found me - they did," he glanced at Yugi, who hadn't been there "-in the art closet, at the end of my tether. I thought... I thought nothing was worth the amount of crap I had to endure. I mean, lots of it was school, but," he struggled "-a lot of it was at home too, in fact, it was worse there,"

It was easier to tell the story if he pretended he was telling it to thin air, so he looked down at his fidgeting hands as he spoke.

"I had to earn my food, but they kept telling me I didn't deserve it. Aunt Petunia and my Step-Uncle... Reverend David, they were very strict people. Angry, even. Angry at me all the time because I was a freak and I couldn't change it, but they made me try hard to every day," he ignored the murmured input from the others, who had to force themselves still to listen.

"He told me I wasn't supposed to eat, I wasn't supposed to bother the normal people with my problems, and said the only way anyone could ever accept me was if I tried to be a good person who prayed and suffered for my sin. I suffered lots, but I don't think it worked at all," he forced himself to look up into the eyes of the closest person to him - Ryou, who was sat on the end of his bed.

"-and I_ did_ try!" he sounded like a child trying to justify stealing cookies "-I did try, I tried hard to be good, and not tell no one, not make a fuss and do everything they wanted - and what everyone at school wanted. But it kept spilling into each other, home 'n school, on weekends they worked me day and night and not let me sleep until Sunday. I never had no energy, 'cause 'm stupid, slow, Harry," he spat, voice filled with resent.

"-and sometimes weird things happened around me, like... impossible stuff, that seems like a big prank or just odd 'n they kept saying I did it on purpose! Then Reverend David would get angry, so angry," he winced and shut his eyes, letting it all spill out from his lips. Everything.

"-then..." he glanced at his hands, he didn't have to clarify what he had to go through for his failings as a person. He was hurt for what he was and for all that he did, he suffered for his mistakes.

"-your hands-" Marik could not stop himself from interjecting. Harry let out a hot blush, he would not tell them why David had done it, but simply nodded to the fact that he did.

"-sinned with 'em," he mumbled, embarrassed "-if I said something he'd disagree with, he'd say he'd hurt my tongue next, if I listened to him talking at dinner with other neighbors he said he'd cut off my ear. If I see him do something wrong I had to pretend I never did, you know how it goes. See no evil, hear no evil, speak no evil," he said humorlessly.

"After you and Marik," he had looked at Ryou "-saved me from...what I was going to do, I realized how much it meant to be alive, happy too. I could never be happy being their version of normal because I tried so hard to be for many years, and all it did, was end up killing me slowly," he murmured the blasphemous statement.

"Everything was suffering, their love meant suffering," he admitted "-and it might be selfish but I don't wanna do that anymore,"

"So you told someone, those bastards got arrested?" Marik sat up eagerly as he said this.

"They yelled at me and...I yelled right back," said Harry, a little proudly "-but he got so angry, this look in his eye like he wanted me dead, actually dead,"

Yugi let out a gasp, his expression completely betraying every thought passing through his mind as he listened.

"-and I knew it was live or die, and thanks to you all I picked...live, but it meant telling," said Harry softly "-Reverend David blamed my rebellion on the devil, a-and all the weird stuff - 'cause it was un-explainable, he blamed on the devil too, and thought of me as it's minion or something," he heard Marik snort.

"-and what else could he do but call it witchcraft?" his voice turned bitter "-and we all know what happened to people accused of Witchcraft,"

Silence.

"They were burned at the stake," said Yugi softly. A pin drop silence had followed before Harry gathered himself and plowed on, listlessly. He knew it was a story he'd have to tell again, again and again. Just as he'd done with police, just as he'd done with Broderick and now with his friends - he was certain things were not over. It couldn't be, not that quickly, not that easily.

"-he threw petrol on me - he was d-downstairs to get the matches so I rammed the window and I ran," his broken voice turned into a croak as he found his throat suddenly become as dry as a desert. The words that had come pouring out had dried up like an oil well, he hadn't the strength to recap all that he had suffered but from the expressions of his friends, he did not have to.

There were no words of comfort that any of them could pull out because the situation was so alien, so horrible and so alien.

It seemed like a significant amount of time passed through the tense silence when in reality it had been very little, before one of them spoke.

"Is it over now?" - Marik had asked, and from the pain that had radiated from Harry - he sincerely wished it would be.

Harry seemed just as bewildered about the future as they, and now the sense of relief he had clinging onto was replaced with worry.

"I don't know," he said.

More silence.

"Will you be okay?" - Yugi asked, setting everyone's eyes on him.

He gave the question some thought - would he be? Could he be? Would it be peaceful now? Would living hurt less? Would his stomach never clench from hunger again and keep him awake at night, would he never ache, bleed and burn for his mistakes again? Would there never be a time where his breathing becomes labored as his lungs filled with water, or worse, blood - from the punishments he would receive? Suddenly, school - a place of torment which had seemed secondary and somewhat minor after the grand scale of everything that had occurred, began to worry him. Suddenly, he did not want to go back - if he was (would he eventually?).

"I don't know," he replied - and this time, he sounded scared.

* * *

><p>They stayed until William Broderick came and thanked them for seeing Harry, and for spending time with him, being his friend - and all of those times in school where they'd walked to classes with him. He even thanked them for bunking off that one day and taking Harry with them for a day of fun that he never would have experienced. Potter had told William it all, and all the English teacher could do was thank his students profusely.<p>

Had it not been for them, he was sure he would never have seen Harry smile a proper smile. It alleviated a fear too - a fear that one day Harry would not be able to take all of his pressures and there would be a memorial assembly at school, a bleak staffroom meeting, and waves of guilt. Or that he'd be on the six o'clock news as a tragedy, that nobody saw coming. Or that his name would appear in the local paper, if he was lucky, he would have gotten two pages and the flowers from someone who cared would have probably only been his alone - had it not been for them.

He thanked them for saving Harry in a way that so many failed.

William had snuck in a McDonald's meal too - Harry's second ever. He beamed at his teacher and got the embrace that he'd been too wary to ask of from his friends. They enjoyed each other's company and the hospital television, something somewhat alien to Harry. They talked as they nibbled on burgers with the bed curtains drawn shut around them.

Then, William has to say something that made his spine freeze.

"There's a man in the children's empty play room waiting to see us Harry," said William.

"Is he from social services?" asked Harry.

"No, I already saw to them, but he says he knew your parents Harry - and after being contacted about what happened, he needs to see you," he added "-us, -I'm sitting in on this, I'd rather you not be alone with this stranger,"

"O-okay,"

Truthfully he was as bewildered as Harry was.

* * *

><p>Harry had to take a minute to observe the man in the beanbag chair. He was sinking into it and was far, far too old to be sitting in it. He had half-moon spectacles, a withered and yet kind face coupled with a rather impressive beard. The kind of beard that you'd see sold as a fake Santa beard at Christmas except it looked one-hundred percent real and Harry had to stop himself from mentally referring to him as such.<p>

"Hello Harry," said the man. He had a nice, warm, soothing voice - Harry even noticed William un-tense, the man seemed relatively docile and now any sense of being worried had been replaced with curiosity.

"My how you've grown up, you were such a small baby," there was a certain gangliness and forced look of maturation about him, about his face.

"I'm Professor Albus Dumbledore," he said, eyes twinkling.

Harry flinched, he knew that name, Aunt Petunia had cursed that name as had David. His reaction had not gone unnoticed.

"You're the one who kept sending all those letters! Those _owls!" _shrieked Harry.

"Indeed. You see, I'm the head of the school your parents attended - and when you reached eleven you were supposed to come. Your parents - may they rest in peace, had arranged for this before the tragedy," said Dumbledore.

"I couldn't. I had _normal _school!" growled Harry, thinking of all the times those letters had got him in trouble.

"Now, due to extenuating circumstances I was led to believe you wanted to complete muggle - pardon, 'normal' school so that you would have the best opportunities in life. Yes, this was what all of the replies to your enrollment letter were, and I was going to send someone to talk to you myself," the man reclined in his beanbag, sinking deeper.

"Curiously though, no magical being could get in as it seems your desire to stay away from magic had warded the area for many years. I eventually began to believe you were safer - for the moment, and that it was your wish and that you would attend when you finish," his expression turned grim.

"Now it seems there is more to this then I am aware, especially as all of this has come to light. I have a few questions my dear boy,"

The only thing was was running through William's mind, was - _Magic! Really?_


	7. Pray Away

**Saving Harry**

**WARNINGS: Religious Fundamentalism, Sensitive Subjects Mentioned, Future Lemon - things of varying sexual nature until that point, homosexual/slash relationships, intense bullying, varying degrees of abuse. If this puts a stick in your ass and offends you, turn back now.**

**Concept and Story heavily influenced by premise of Steven King's "Carrie". I heat chicken nuggets on review flames**

_IMPORTANT A/N: I feel like I should clarify and put the good side of religion here. Not all Christians are patently like David and Petunia Dursley. Every kind of group has it's own brand of crazy that will use absolutely ANYTHING to justify their messed up moral compass, it happened that the two child abusers in this story used the Bible. But believe me, when I say they're plenty of good Christians out there._

_**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter [Warner Bros. do] nor do I own Yu-Gi-Oh! Or the great concept of Carrie by S. King**_

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Seven<strong>

Harry had to come to answer some uncomfortable questions when William finally had to ask about specific bruises that he'd used to come into school with. He adamantly would not talk about the hand bandages that recently came off, or his sensitive slightly lighter skinned hands as a cause of it. Then, there was the actual reality of him being dismissed from the hospital. Personally he was surprised it happened so soon - part of him wondered if it was due to the NHS's bed shortages that they were trying to push him out as soon as possible. He'd only had one doctor ask him questions for all of ten minutes, and one probing nurse -the rest of the interactions he had were with William and outside people like social services and a proposed psychiatric nurse. Due to Harry being under eighteen, it was a service that specialized in a child's mental well-being, but he told William he hadn't decided if he wanted them involved.

Then, on the morning of the day he was supposed to be dismissed, William had gone off again - to get something.

Surprising to Harry, he came back with_ someone._

Harry felt the muscles in his body tighten automatically when he took in the person's appearance - it was a male, older then William - but kind faced. That was not what made him tense, it was the cross hanging from his neck and the clothing that indicated he was a vicar or something.

"Hello there Harry," he said warmly, with a smile that made Harry want to relax but he disallowed himself.

"Your guardian was just telling me a little bit about you. I was actually here to visit someone else in another ward, but he saw me and I feel we should have a little talk. Don't worry, you're not in any kind of trouble," the vicar approached him and sat on the chair beside the bed while William sat on the end of Harry's bed.

Harry glanced at William and then at the vicar, and forced himself to untense.

"I'm a vicar for the local church, and I feel like nobody - other then your guardian - has sat down and had a proper talk with you," said the vicar calmly.

Harry nodded - this was true, but he didn't trust the vicar an inch.

"My name is Grant Davis, and I've been given a little overview - not too many details, of what's..." he paused "-happened."

"-And your guardian feels like something should be made clear after this horrible ordeal, that there are people you can trust," said the vicar in such a way that Harry wanted to hang off his every word but pride refused it. He wanted to believe the vicar, he really did.

"I've been told the nature of your relatives, I've seen local headlines." the vicar suddenly regretted saying 'headlines' at Harry's expression but ploughed on.

"You're only young, but I feel you should know, that there are many bad people out there, and I assure you, a majority aren't just church goers," he said frankly "-but that said, there are plenty of good people - just as many, if not more. I want you to know that hate, abuse and making you feel any less of a person is not what God, or what the church is about," said the vicar.

"In fact, it's not what any religion is about," said the man, Harry was surprised to hear him talk so...liberally.

"But people have ways of twisting things to suit their needs and sometimes they're bad people who use it to justify their ends," Harry soaked it in slowly and William watched reluctant understanding start to dawn on his ward's face.

"-in many churches, you will find good people, you may find bad people. In any institution or group - it will be this way, I am simply sorry that you had to meet the worst," said the man softly.

"Okay, I understand that...it makes sense. But w-what if I don't know what I believe? Am I bad person then?" asked Harry honestly, inward confusion and turmoil evident.

The vicar was silent, pondering, and then he slowly grinned.

"You know, you have a long way to go yet - you're just a teenager. But no matter what religion, philosophy, beliefs or lack-of, that you choose to run with - you know what matters?" said the vicar. Harry shrugged cluelessly at the rhetorical question.

"-being a good person," there was so much conviction in the statement, that Harry could bring himself to believe it - that and William was nodding too.

"And I know it may not matter to you personally now, but as a man of God, I believe it is Him that judges. Not me, not your relatives, not any person on this Earth. You know what else I believe?" the vicar said bluntly.

"I believe that you have done nothing to deserve this - no child can possibly deserve this, and even worse that they used the bible to justify it. You don't need to be forgiven for anything, you seem like a good kid with a great guardian,"

William flashed the man a grateful grin and nodded at Harry - he would be everything Harry did not have. He swore it.

"I think God is merciful and kind, and will judge on the content of your character above all else. So no matter what you choose to do or believe in as you get old and eventually older then me, just be a good person," the vicar got up and glanced at the ward's wall-clock and began to part ways.

"Good luck, and God bless,"

Strangely, Harry felt a little less guilty and like somebody had lightened a weight on him.

At first he was angry at William for fishing out the vicar who was probably visiting some terminal patient or something and then telling him all that had happened to him, but in the end, he was thankful.

So he turned to his old English teacher with a thankful little smile.

"Thanks, I needed that,"

* * *

><p>Every day when he was at William's house, the boys - Ryou, Yugi and Marik would visit as what he guessed was some sort of goodwill gesture and trying to make-do like everything was normal. Harry appreciated them trying, but something felt a little fabricated about the friendship - he guessed it was the awkwardness that did that. Marik seemed to be making genuine progress with Harry though, but Yugi had to work a little harder to fill in the personal gap he had with the raven-haired boy - but he was the lighthearted laugh that he needed.<p>

Finally there was Ryou, and that was where things were getting strained. It was obvious Ryou wanted to say something to him but didn't know how to go about it - as if asking about anything before the hospital stay would suddenly make Harry revert or make him fly into a delicate state.

Ryou was helping Harry keep up with various pieces of work while William was organizing having the rest of the term off - and get the school to employ a long-term substitute under the circumstances, so he could home-school Harry up until exam time. This seemed to suit Harry like a glove so far, but certain personal barriers hadn't been addressed nor had sensitive topics because William was working on approaching the issues as they came up, because he had no depth meter for how much the Dursley's had messed with his growing up.

In the time that the boys were at school, Harry was at home - studying, when they came, it was a mix of homework and games, then a period of pure relaxation, then either going home for dinner - or having it before they went over, or staying at William's at watching the two cook together and Harry work the stove like a demi-God.

"I'm telling you - people love a guy that can cook," laughed Marik.

Harry smiled shyly and served it out, William observed the awkwardness of the dinner table and broke it by dropping his fork.

"You can take your food upstairs, just don't make a mess or mum will skin us," said William. Agne had gone to get some more groceries for the week and played a grandmotherly role as best she could, for that William was thankful.

They all grinned and moved elsewhere, it was curious when they went up to Harry's new room - previously bereft of anything was slowly filling with posters and personal bits and pieces as they saw indications of hobbies, likes, interests and creativity begin to flood it. They all noticed it - since his room was not filled to the brim with crosses as it had been in Privet Drive, they saw a beautiful blossom of personality begin to be evident. Cute cartoons on A4 paper were stuck all over the place - turned out despite Harry couldn't do much art, he was pretty good at cartoons. There were posters that William enjoyed getting for Harry along with magazines and pushed him to ask for more, but Harry was awfully humble. It took him two solid weeks of daily persistence for William to get him over it, when it came to Harry's guilt of being provided for.

He'd also cursed the Dursley's name a million times that week.

Marik noticed something - Harry seemed to be a stronger person, more regular - something a bit more stronger and masculine in the way that he presented and acted instead of a slightly effeminate wall-flower. Of course, those things were still par for the course, but the point was that his personality was forming easier and he seemed a stronger character. They were just scared of getting him to drastically revert if they brought up certain topics. Tiptoeing around eggshells.

"Nice pictures," commented Marik offhandedly, observing Harry turn a vibrant shade of red and suddenly sound self-deprecating.

Ryou gently chided him for it and they continued a game of cards comfortably enough, while Yugi had a rummage around his growing magazine collection until he found a recent copy on gaming. They were rapidly pulling Harry into the world of boys and their games - which William thought was bloody brilliant and pulled out various old consoles from the attic to familiarize Harry with the classics he grew up with on the Nintendo 64. So Ryou was ecstatic when Harry displayed a great knowledge of classics and Yugi was happy to fill him in on Duel Monsters and all manner of modern video games.

They also pulled Harry out the house now and then and often ended up at the McDonald's they'd first hung out at, it was sort of like a ritual spot at this point.

Harry had never known how much he'd missed, was this what being normal was?

He glanced at his reflection in the mirror hanging on the upper wall and noted how less sunken and wirey he was and how healthy his cheeks looked. Pink - not totally lacking of color all over his skin like he used to. Not sickly. Even his hair had gained the healthy glow and Ryou was the first to start noticing it - then Marik, then Yugi.

They all thought Harry was making great progress. Until this.

It was a Sunday now, and Ryou had gone to see Harry by himself to deliver some extra homework he'd forgotten to take on the Saturday. William had let him in without a second thought, grinned and let Ryou wander up the stairs to Harry's room on his own. He felt familiar enough with the boys that he did not mind their presence and neither did Agne, who thought it was great young Harry was making friends his own age and was being...teenage.

Ryou looked through the ajar door and heard the sound of stifled short breaths, like someone was desperately trying to hold in cries, shameful ones. Eyes wide - it felt like a moment he shouldn't have been privy to, but his feet stayed there - rooted. Ryou watched as Harry's clasped hands shook - was he _praying? _wondered Ryou.

"Harry is everything okay?" he couldn't bare to watch him that upset anymore.

The boy turned around like he could have gained whiplash from it, the only trace of tears was a slim tear-track shine that dimly got attention from uncomplimentary room lighting. Otherwise, Harry might have even passed for fine.

"I'm fine," now his voice betrayed him.

"No you're not," said Ryou pointedly, putting the work onto a desk at the side and walking over to put a comforting hand on his arm -that he jerked away from almost resentfully.

"I got a letter," said Harry "-my relatives are going to be trialed soon,"

Silence.

"Oh,"

Harry wanted to tell them it was in the magical world - he really did. But he didn't want them to think he was _insane _did he? He didn't want to lose his first and only friends! He felt his stomach twist and neck heat - that wasn't all that bothered him.

"I'm.." Ryou didn't know what to say - one doesn't say 'sorry' in this instance and was at a loss.

"We're all here for you?" he offered weakly.

"-and... I'm .." Harry stuttered then dropped his sentence "-I was sort of praying,"

"Sorry for disturbing you, it's just you seemed so upset," apologized the albino -Harry felt his whole face heat up.

"No! You weren't it's okay! Really!" he said quickly, not wanting Ryou to think he did anything wrong by being concerned.

"Well tell me what's up then," said Ryou with a gentle frown, sitting on Harry's bed - he felt his heart skip a beat at it. The air turned thick, there was a tangible sort of tension that neither of them could quite pinpoint.

"I just..wanted to pray it all out of me, I've spent nights just wanting to scratch it out of me, out of my skin - out of my being, but it just doesn't go!" cried out Harry in frustration. Ryou blinked owlishly - what was Harry on about? Either way it was eating him from the inside out unless...

He felt his hands knot together and fingers twist, palms sweating as he rested them on his lap. He'd contemplated _it _for a while but didn't want to think on _it _or act on _it _further. He wanted to regard Harry as purely platonic.

He _wanted._

Maybe Harry was also on about _it?_

"-because I don't want you to not be my friend anymore or for you to hate me or feel weird because it's not _normal_," said Harry in a weak 'I-kind-of-want-to-cry' sort of voice.

"It's okay Harry," said Ryou with a weak grin, placing a hand on Harry's shoulder and glad when he didn't jerk away.

Little did Ryou know that Harry was also talking about his magic.

"Nothing you could say would make me fall out with you," he said.

Harry tried to say something but his mouth went dry, his heart pounded - and loud. He could no longer bare to look Ryou in his face and stared down at his lap. He wanted to say '_I think I like you the way guys like girls,' _he wanted to say '_I'm magic and I don't even know if I'm human,'_

But he couldn't drag the courage to say it.

"-you don't have to tell me if you don't want to, because you don't have to,"

Pause.

"-Because_ I know,_" he said with conviction. Harry felt his body freeze - he looked up at Ryou's calm expression and wondered if he really did. Then his heart began to sink slowly, knowing Ryou probably felt nothing remotely similar.

"-and I think you're a great guy and everything,"

Harry shut his eyes - _here it comes, _he thought, heart plummeting even more, it served him right for being so fucking bent.

"-but I don't know how I can be...that close to you, and help you after all this. I'm already worried that I'm doing something wrong," admitted Ryou.

"You're not! You've been great! All of you!" protested Harry.

Ryou nodded and sucked in a sharp breathe.

"That said, I saw you for you the day we all bunked off after finding you in the art closet - and I liked seeing you like that. Then I realized I like seeing you," the sentences began to rush together as his nerve began to dwindle at Harry's progressively changing expression.

"Then I realized maybe it's two way, I think I saw signs, I don't know but..." it turned awkward "- what I'm trying to say is,"

"I mean," he furrowed his brow - this was a lot harder out loud then in his head.

"-I realized I like being the one that helped make you so happy, and the more we hang out, the more I like you," God, he hoped this wouldn't blow up in his face.

Harry was grinning stupidly though internally reeling -in a strange shell-shock. Ryou also didn't want Harry to retract or to cross some sort of boundary but at the same time - it's all he wanted to do.

Ryou paused and cleared his throat and blushed awkwardly. One of them had to do this and it certainly wouldn't be the ball of repression known as Harry Potter.

"Harry, I like you more then a friend," he said formally.

"-and I would very much like it if you would let me kiss you,"


End file.
